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Into Narsindal

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The evil Lord Dan-Tor has at last been driven out of Fyorlund and has retreated to Narsindal, the realm of his dread master Sumeral. But Hawklan and his allies have won no more than a breathing space, for Dan-Tor is gathering his forces for a massive onslaught on all the free lands.An alliance of the free peoples must be forged, even those of peaceful Orthlund, to stand against Sumeral's dark battalions. The dwellers in the air and the mysterious inhabitants of the lands beneath the mountains must also play their part.A brave alliance; yet so great are Sumeral's forces that it can do no more than stave off the hour of defeat a little while.For Hawklan and the raven, Gavor, the road ahead is lonely and unknowable, for they must confront Sumeral himself, and in so doing discover, at last, what secret lies buried so deep in Hawklan's soul.Into Narsindal is the fourth book of The Chronicles of Hawklan"."

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Prologue
PrologueHawklan’s face was desolate. ‘I remember the enemy falling back and standing silently watching us. I remember the sky, black with smoke, and flickering with fighting birds. There was a raucous command from somewhere and the enemy lowered their long pikes — they were not going to close with us again. Then the figure next to me shouted defiance at them, hurled its shield into their midst and reached up to tear away its helm.’ Hawklan paused and his eyes glistened as he relived the moment. ‘Long blonde hair tumbled out like a sudden ray of sunlight in that terrible gloom.’ He shook his head. ‘I hadn’t realized who it was. A great roar went up from the circling army. I called out her name...’ He opened his mouth to call again. Both Gulda and Andawyr watched, lips parted, as if willing him this release, but no sound came from either of them. ‘Without taking her eyes from the approaching enemy, she reached back and her hand touched my face briefly. “I am here,” its touch said. “I am with you to the end.” I threw away my own helm and shield and took my sword two-handed as she had. Then the figure at my back cried out in recognition. He too I had not recognized in the press. Thus by some strange chance, we three childhood friends formed the last remnant of our great army.’ He paused again and clenched his fist, as if around his sword hilt. ‘A group of the enemy threw down their pikes and rushed forward to take... the girl. She killed three of them with terrible skull-splitting blows, but... ‘So I slew her. I slew my friend. With a single stroke. I saw her head tumbling red and gold down the slope and into the darkness under those countless trampling feet.’ He shook his head. ‘Better that than that she be taken alive. ‘The rest of her attackers fled back to their pikes and the enemy began its final slow advance. Back to back we held. Pushed aside and broke their long spears. Killed several. Then my last friend and ally fell and I...’ He faltered. ‘He said “I’m sorry,” even as he fell... ‘That last burden was my end and I too sank to my knees...’

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